


all the days I don't remember (are the ones I can't forget)

by meggiewrites



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: (as in – the younger is 15 the older 18), (but actually they're 29 and 32), (very light), Age Difference, Angst and Feels, Boys In Love, Eventual Fluff, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mother-Son Relationship, Phone Calls & Telephones, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-19 00:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17591291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meggiewrites/pseuds/meggiewrites
Summary: One morning, Thomas wakes up in his 15-year-old body and his teenage life. Sucks when you’re supposed to be 29 and the person you love lives on the other side of the country.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So. This might easily be the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written. Which probably explains why I churned out 90% of it in the course of four days when I usually hardly write this much in a month. The prompt has been on my mind for a while, and I really hope I did it justice.
> 
> This is my first proper chaptered fic, and I still fear that the chapters are too short, but as they're the length of an average oneshot of mine, I should be fine (I hope) The story is finished, so hopefully, I'll be able to post a chapter every one or two days.
> 
> Many thanks to Martha, Mavis and E for giving me constant feedback on my writing and listening to me ramble about this again and again, you're the best!! Unbeta'd as always – enjoy!

Probably, Thomas should have known that something was wrong the second he woke up. Isn’t that how the story goes? But instead, he harrumphs into his pillow as an obnoxiously bright ray of sun slips through the blinds and finds its way onto his face, turning around and yelling out in sharp pain when he immediately rolls off the bed.

Only when he glares at the wooden frame does he realize that it doesn’t look at all like it should.

It’s a way-too-small single bed with furiously red bedding, a bed that he hasn’t slept in for a while, some old Bayern posters pinned on the wall above it, a bed that doesn’t have his boyfriend in it – Thomas squints. Surely he’d remember if he drove to his parents the night before and decided to crash in his childhood room.

“Mama!” he yells, and suddenly feels transported back to a time when he still lived here. He even remembers the way his voice cracked, not that much unlike he just sounded now, though he must have imagined that.

He stops short when his mother opens his door, but she doesn’t even really leave him time to gape at her.

“Why are you still in bed? Did you forget to turn on your alarm clock? We need to leave in fifteen minutes, you don’t wanna be late for school!”

Thomas blinks at her. Apart from the pretty nonsensical sentence she just uttered, what shocks her the most is her appearance. Unless someone invented an age-reversing machine overnight, he isn’t really sure how to explain that she looks at least ten years younger than the last time they met up.

“School?” he asks, tilting his head.

She rolls her eyes with a fond smile. “Yes, _Spatzl_ , it’s Monday; don’t tell me you forgot again. And now hurry, your brother is already finished with breakfast.”

And with that, she closes the door behind herself, leaving Thomas with his thoughts reeling as he gets up.

He turns to the small mirror that is hung on the side of his wardrobe and he startles so heavily that he almost knocks over a pile of school books stacked in the middle of the room.

He’s never been scared of his own reflection before – sure, he’s not much to look at, that much he knows, but it isn’t his looks or the bags under his eyes that make him flinch and his heart race, beating faster and faster until he can feel his heartbeat pulsing high up in his throat.

He’s shorter than he’s used to, though just as lanky, his rounder face is covered in pimples and he looks fourteen years old. Fifteen at most.

And that’s when the panic starts to settle.

 

It’s only when he’s riding shotgun in his mother’s car, his bag stuffed with school stuff he probably won’t need that the full consequence of what’s happened hits him.

What has happened? His hand trembles. How can he even be sure that _something_ happened? Sure, he might think that he was twenty-nine years old, an accomplished but aging football player with a just-as accomplished boyfriend, but how does he know this whole thing – more than a decade of his life – hasn’t been just a strange, intricately elaborate dream? (Though why he would remember that dream in vivid detail, including Bastian Schweinsteiger peeing in a bottle the day after they won the world cup, because even at eleven in the morning he was still too drunk to get up and to a bathroom without tumbling over his feet, Thomas has no idea.)

Biting his nails out of the anxiety running up and down his spine certainly doesn’t help, on the contrary, it makes his mother send him strange looks, so he takes a few deep breaths and tries to focus on the trees passing by outside as he goes through the facts.

It’s 2005, his name is Thomas Müller, he’s still a few years from getting his Abitur and he plays for the Bayern youth. It’s January and his mother curses at the frozen streets while his little brother Simon plays Pokemon on his old gameboy on the backset.

Except, in his mind, his terribly confused, aching mind, it’s 2019, he’s a professional footballer playing for Bayern Munich and the German National Team and he should be at home enjoying their day off with his goalkeeper boyfriend Manuel, the captain of both said teams.

Thomas has no idea how that’s even possible or if he’s suddenly gone as crazy as his best friend Holger always says he is.

That realization alone is probably enough to knock anyone’s socks off. Except that it’s worse because one hour after waking up on this fateful morning, Thomas has no idea what to believe. His memories that are as clear as if he’d noted them down in a diary, or the reality he’s faced with.

For a wild second, he wonders if he’s dreaming right at that moment, wishes for it more than anything else, but after pinching himself in his arm hard and it hurts like a bitch, he quickly rejects that idea, sighing as he resists the urge to bury his face in his hands.

And on top of that, it’s one thing that he has no idea what classes he has that day – hell, he doesn’t even remember the name of all his classmates or how many he even has! – and realizing that you’re wildly unprepared for what’s to come (especially when his mother ask him if he studied enough for his math exam) – it’s a completely different thing to think about Manuel.

Manuel Peter Neuer, born March 27th, 1986, in Gelsenkirchen, NRW, Germany. The person who has somehow become the love of Thomas’ Müller’s life. And at this point, Thomas has no idea if Manuel even exists.

He’s not usually someone to get emotional quickly, but the desperate sob gets stuck in his throat anyway.

 

He completely screws up the the math test, but he really couldn’t care less. After that he has English and just barely manages to find what was apparently his homework in a horribly crinkled-up plastic file while wondering for half an hour what topic they’re even covering.

His classmates, five of whom he can’t even remember the names of, covertly sneak curious glances at him; probably because he’s not half as disruptive and witty has he remembers himself being back then, but Thomas’ thoughts currently only revolve about one topic.

With panic, he realized that he can’t even fully pull up an imaginary picture of Manuel’s face anymore before he admits that he’s probably overreacting. Still, the fear that Manu himself might be just as imaginary as this whole life he can remember leading still haunts him, has dominated his thoughts ever since the car ride.

For a second, he considers that he probably shouldn’t even think about him, not when he’s not even met Lisa yet, hasn’t fallen in love with her yet, but it only takes him so far as he’s sure that he couldn’t think of her like that now, not when his heart pounds anxiously against his chest, when he only thinks of blue eyes, a small, honest smile and short, dark-blonde hair. When he thinks about the weight of Manuel’s head on his chest every morning or his big, elegant hands with the just a tiny bit crooked fingers.

With a groan, Thomas hits his head against his desk.

His English teacher only remarks that future tenses really shouldn’t be the topic to drive him to despair.

No one laughs.

 

He barely makes it out of school alive. Already at his third class, physics, did he realize that school wasn’t only going to be a minor problem next to feeling like a stranger in his own life and missing Manuel like a phantom limb. He had no idea what half of his teachers were talking about, almost slipped up when he couldn’t address his lab partner by his name, and was now loaded with a ton of homework he had no idea how to solve.

Especially, as he realized with another bout of panic added to his upset stomach, after it had taken him ten minutes to start up his dad’s work computer – the only one they have in the house – that apparently the internet wasn’t the access to all the knowledge in the world that it has been in 2019.

It’s certainly strange to think about the future as your past, Thomas muses. He would have probably chuckled at it had his situation been any kind of funny.

After two hours of helplessly staring at his physics homework, Thomas’ dad comes to pick him up for training. It’s only when they turn into Säbener Str. that he loses some of the edge that he hasn’t been able to shake even in the quietest moment of the days.

The hallways look so familiar to his straining mind, and even if it every now and then supplies him that there should be different decor here and there, and oh, they repainted that wall in 2012, it manages to ease him in a way he hasn’t been sure anything could.

Training is achingly familiar, even if getting used to his old youth coach and the players (that he fortunately remembers all the names of) takes him a hot second, Thomas manages to relax. Football is what it always has been, and he dribbles the ball around the obstacles with an ease that make everyone gape at him.

As they team up for some stretching exercises, Holger tilts a curious eyebrow at him. God, Holger. Sometimes Thomas forgot how much he missed his best friend by his side, with that dry, quiet sense of humor that he has and his ability to root Thomas even in his most hyper moments in a way that sometimes even Manuel couldn’t.

“You play better than you ever have in your life but you look like you’ve suddenly aged fifteen years.” A smirk tugs at his lips. “What the hell happened last night?”

Thomas only groans. “Oh, you have no idea.”

Luckily, Holger doesn’t pester him any further and doesn’t even question it when he takes the bus straight home after training instead of staying back for an hour or two to just hang out and talk and play video games in Holger’s dorm room. His parents aren’t home when Thomas gets back. His mother left a note on the table that Simon was spending the night at a friend’s, reminding him that he should warm up last night’s leftovers for dinner.

Usually, Thomas remembers appreciating family dinners a lot more than the evenings he had to spend on his own, but right now, he’s glad for being alone.

He gives up on physics after another half an hour, and instead plants his butt on the couch, turning on the terribly antique TV before realizing the bad resolution gives him a headache and turning it off with a frustrated groan.

He stares at the ceiling and focuses on a small speck of dust that is stuck next to the ceiling lamp, a sigh escaping his lips.

He’s resigned himself to the fact that any more panic attacks about his current situation won’t help him any further. Instead, he starts to focus on what he _can_ do. It takes him surprisingly long to remember that the telephone book is a thing, sighing in frustration when he realizes that his parents’ version only covers Bavaria instead of the whole of Germany. So he continues chewing on his already slightly swollen bottom lip, and instead tries to remember the day before this one. Or rather, a day fifteen years in the future that he remembers as if it was yesterday.

They’d played against Stuttgart and won by a comfortable amount the day before, and Manu and Thomas had been very happy to get a day to themselves. In times like these, true relaxation was rare, but somehow, they’d woken up in a happy glow of peacefulness that morning.

Thomas had nudged his nose against Manuel’s, peppering kisses all over his cheeks until the blond had finally woken up, his nose adorably scrunched and his eyes opened only ever-so-slightly, crinkled with the smile spread on his lips.

They’d made love two times that morning, first in bed and then in the shower, before getting dressed in sweatpants and t-shirts for an elaborate breakfast. Then they’d gone for a walk hand in hand, something that only happened rarely, but this time, they were protected by the thick fog hovering over the lake like a thick blanket. They’d sat down on a wooden bench they shared good memories of, and then returned home to a night of watching movies, making out lazily on the couch and forgetting, if only for a few hours, the mess that their lives were at that moment.

All in all, it was a completely normal, albeit incredibly agreeable, day.

Thomas smiles wistfully at the memories, so fresh as if they were burned into the back of his mind. He remembers the texture of Manuel’s hair under his fingertips, and wraps his arms around himself in a weak attempt to emulate at least a tiny bit of the warmth he feels when he held his boyfriend close.

‘He must be eighteen now’, he just barely manages to think before his eyes slip close and he drifts off to sleep.

Somehow, he manages to drag himself to bed shortly before his parents come back, and when he wakes the next morning, for a moment he thinks he’s woken up in the _real_ reality again. But then, there’s a lack of Manu by his side, the bed is still too small, the room too dark and too red.

He sighs, throwing an arm over his eyes. For a second, he wonders if he’ll ever be okay again, or if this – this deja-vu, this trick of his mind or whatever the fuck it is – will mess him up forever.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanna say a massive thank you for how well this fic was received ♡

Somehow, he drags himself to school.

It goes passable, up until he realizes he left his half-assed, unfinished physics homework back on his desk at him.

His teacher is a mean old lady that looks a bit like if José Mourinho was an angry German woman with librarian glasses; at the very least, she seems just as hard to please and he believes that man to be – and definitely very dissatisfied with the fact that when she asks him to hand in his notes, there isn’t anything he can offer her.

Thomas was never a model pupil. In fact, to the surprise of absolutely no one, he was more of the kind of student who disrupted class with unnecessary witty comments that occasionally might have made the teachers look dumb (which might also be why most of them didn’t like him much) but at the same time, he always delivered grades that were good enough – solidly good, actually – so that they couldn’t really complain.

Until now, that is.

The big red five that stares up at him from the math exam they wrote the other day is evidence enough of that, as is the way his teacher turns up his nose at him when he only groans, slamming his forehead on the table once again.

It doesn’t get any better after that. Sure, he’s passable in German, History, English and even Geography – in fact, he knows that obviously, his English is significantly better than it was just a week ago. (It also makes his English teacher the only one who still directs smiles at him and whose lesson Thomas enjoys attending.)

At the end of the week, the space behind his name in all of his teachers’ books must look like a graveyard judging by the way they keep making crosses at all his shortcomings, and while it makes his classmates whisper about him behind his back and his mother concerned and frowning when he returns home with bad grade after bad grade, it at least keeps his mind off the fact that he still misses a blond giant by his side like he’s missing a part of his soul.

Training with Bayern keeps him sane. Even though Holger’s slight confusion has by now turned into genuine concern mixed with honest bewilderment when Thomas manages to nutmeg him again and again as well as scoring goals with an ease that’s unprecedented even for him. (Unsurprisingly, his youthful body combined with his older self’s experience truly makes for a deadly combination.)

But in the end, it feels normal, and so does getting in a bus on Saturday, driving half an hour to face this week’s opponents.

He leans his head against the misted window, the shudders of the engine running through him as he misses the comfort of being able to pull out your phone and listen to music just like that. He knows he has some old CD portable player laying around somewhere in the mess of his room but he still terribly wishes for the first ipod to come out already.

Holger pokes his arm but Thomas doesn’t pay him any attention, instead he just sighs when he acknowledges that his friend is sitting where his lover used to sit. 

He hasn’t been thinking about Manu as much, not with the hell of a week he just had, but now, stuck in a routine that he doesn’t know how to do without him anymore, he starts feeling empty again. Luckily, the actual game distracts him well enough. He scores twice, which earns him a satisfied pat on the back from his coach and his teammates lifting him up as they cheer, carrying him around when he scores the third one in the last second, finalizing their last-minute win.

He showers, lets the water run over his boney shoulders, closing his eyes and imagines Manuel right there next to him. He can so perfectly picture his smile, half-there, tugging at only the right corner of his lips, his clear blue eyes sparkling, his hair messy and undone.

When he opens his eyes again and is faced by their own goalkeeper again, who’s not as tall, has dark brown hair and is a bit too thick around the middle, he huffs, and as he clenches his hand around his ragged towel, he vows that he won’t sit around and just accept this agony anymore.

Of course, any plans that he might have had dissolve into thin air when he pushes open the entrance door to his parents’ house, and he finds both of them waiting for him with crossed arms, clearly not happy. Simon is sitting on the couch, munching on some cereal, clearly apprehensive but curious about what is going to happen.

“We need to talk about school,” his mother says, and Thomas’ stomach starts churning. “Your form teacher called. I don’t know what was up this past week, but it really can’t continue this way. We know that everyone has their ups and downs, but … oh baby, what is going on?”

She looks so concerned and Thomas genuinely thinks he might cry. But instead, he bites the tears back stubbornly, raising his chin.

“I will get better again.”

She cups his face, looking at him thoroughly, as he observes his father rubbing a hand over his face out of the corner of his eye.

“You will have to cut back on football if this continues, you know that, right?”

Thomas’ insides twist themselves into knots. Sure, he knows that on a base level, but he can’t, can’t – can’t lose the only thing that still makes him feel like a person, the only thing that connects him to Manuel, that might ensure he might ever meet him in this timeline …

“If you work hard you have nothing to worry about dear, of course you don’t. I just – we worry about you. You’ve been so cut off this week, are you sure everything is alright?”

She’s always been incredibly perceptive so Thomas knows that she knows that he’s lying, but nevertheless, he shakes his head.

“Everything’s fine. I promise.”

Of course, nothing is, so when everyone is sleeping, he’s still turning in bed, unable to drift away, tormented by the past that is his future.

The next week, he fails chemistry, too, and his parents ground him for everything but all the mandatory training sessions – which are just enough so that he doesn’t get kicked out of the team – but not even the additional time invested in homework and studying seems to be enough to save his grades. In the end, both him and his parents just glad that his Abitur is still a few years away, or else this would have serious consequences.

On the third day of house arrest, as he’s labouring over algebra homework once more at night, he is close to banging his head against the wall. When the urge gets too strong he instead pushes open the door, trying to find out if his parents are still awake. It’s quiet downstairs, and only the only dim light is coming from the living room, where they must be watching TV. It isn’t late, but already, it’s pitch-black outside.

Quietly, Thomas puts away his books – he’s still astonished by how much of a slob his younger self was. Is. Whatever – and slips into a warm winter coat, pulls a beanie over his head and quietly sneaks down the hallway. He leaves the light in his room on, and desperately hopes that his mother doesn’t come to check if he’s actually working.

His parents don’t actually to come check up on him often. Up on until now, he was a very well-behaved son, even with his exuberant personality and mischievous nature, and somehow, it makes them trust him even when they know that he’s failing school, and he hates that he has to go behind their backs anyway, but right now, he can’t hold himself back anymore. 

Not when his mind hasn’t shut up ever since he woke up with the memories of a guy in his late twenties and the body of the child.

He tiptoes downstairs, careful to avoid all the squeaking steps, thankful for still knowing them by heart. He closes the front door behind himself as quietly as he can, then first creeping, walking, then running down the street so fast that he's quickly out of breath.

The singular public phone booth in the village had been cleared out and towed away long ago back in 2019, but now, it’s still firmly rooted in place in its spot next to an ancient elm tree. The door is stuck when he tries to wedge it open, and only gives in when he tugs with both hands.

He lets out a deep breath that he’d been holding ever since he had this idea back at home, ten minutes ago when he’d left without thinking, no matter how angry he’d be; The wall under the old-fashioned wire phone is lined with a shelf that’s full to the brim with phone books. Thomas’ fingers jitter when he pulls out the one for Nordrhein-Westfalen, thick and heavy, thousands and thousands of impossibly thin pages, full with everyone that has their number registered – or well, not everyone, he knows that, but he prays and hopes as he flips through them, L, M, N … Nagel, Nussbaum …

Neuer, Peter.

Thomas’ pulse speeds up until his heartbeat is so loud that he can barely perceive anything but the blood roaring in his eardrums. His hands tremble when he picks up the receiver, dialling the number, the loud beeps of the phone ringing in his mind.

At first, he thinks no one will pick up.

And for the first time, Thomas wonders what Manu will think – a stranger calling him; because surely, Manuel wouldn’t remember him. Surely, it’s just him suffering this fate because surely, Manuel would have tried searching for him already if he was in same situation.

For a second, that makes Thomas want to hang up. But then, he realizes that even if Manu has no idea who he is, hearing his voice will be enough. Enough to make him work even harder until he achieves his goal, until they both play for Germany and they will meet, become friends, then teammates, then lovers.

He clutches the phone in his hand until his knuckles turn white under the pale light of the single naked light bulb in the booth.

And then, finally, someone picks up.

“Neuer, hello?”

It’s not Manu. Thomas is convinced he would recognize his voice anywhere, and this isn’t him. It sounds older, too, harsher.

“Hello? Who is there?!”

Since Manuel’s father is the one under whose name the number is listed, it makes sense he would be the one to pick up. Maybe the phone is located in his office or …

Thomas coughs.

“Herr Neuer? Good evening. This is Thomas Müller” – it feels stupid giving his real name, at the same time, it’s common enough that he would be pretty much untraceable – “your son Manuel tutored me in math a few years back – we’re at the same school – and now there’s this big topic I’m really struggling with … do you know if Manuel would have the time to help me out again?”

Considering his abysmal grades, this story it’s not even a total lie. On top of that, he knows Manu actually did use to help younger kids with math – his best subject apart from PE. Still, he tries to keep his accent as neutral as possible, hiding the fact that he’s Bavarian as good as he can.

Manu’s father grunts.

“My wife and I got a divorce three years ago. No idea what my son is doing these days, apart from football, of course. God knows the boy can’t be kept away from the turf for long enough.”

Thomas gulps. The divorce, of course, how could he have forgotten. Manu never talked about his dad a lot - and the fact that he’s left his mum to raise two teenage boys on her own had a lot to do with that.

“Though I suppose,” Peter Neuer continues, “there’s no harm in giving you his number.”

Thomas’s heartbeat accelerates again. He doesn’t have a pen, so he scratches the number onto the bottom of the page with a blunt fingernail, heartbeat hammering in his throat when for a second, he doesn’t think that he’ll be able to read it.

His voice is barely there when he thanks Manuel’s father, his whole body shaking when he hangs up, clutching the page he tore from the telephone book.

His fingers feel numb as he walks back home. It’s gotten colder, and when he passes the church in the middle of the village, looking up to the clock face, he realizes that only fifteen minutes have passed since he left the house.

In his heart, it felt like five hours.

When he sneaks back in, his parents are still watching Tagesschau. Thomas tiptoes back upstairs, ready to fall into his bed and into a deep, dreamless slumber. But just a few seconds before he risks to drift away, he realizes he should write down the number. His chicken scratch is barely readable, but after he’s pinned the note on his cork pinboard, he falls asleep with a smile on his lips for the first time ever since waking up in this mess.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas finally gets to talk to a certain important someone this chapter ...

It takes him four additional days to muster up the courage to finally make the call. In the meantime, he throws himself into football training with even more dedication, and somehow manages to feel like he’s getting back on track in school. It’s Saturday, his parents are out buying groceries, and with Simon reading a book in his room, Thomas feels safe enough to slip into his father’s office, making a beeline for the phone.

He’s surprisingly calm when he dials the number, fully prepared to reel off his story about the math tutoring again if Manuel’s mother or even his brother picks up, ready to use that explanation even if it’s Manuel himself who receives his call, bouncing his foot up and down as he waits in anticipation –

“Neuer?”

This time, the voice is higher, clearer, and Thomas’ heart clenches when he recognizes it. In that second, might have ascended to a higher level of being, but he couldn’t even tell, too focused on the fact that it feels like his soul just left his body and something took hold of his heart. He feels warm all over, and all of him screams in a mixture of agony and pure bliss.

He clears his throat, unsuccessfully trying to push all that to the side.

“Manuel? My name is Thomas Müller, you don’t know me but I am calling for–”

He gets interrupted by a noise that sounds too much like a sob.

“Thomas? Thommy? Is it really you?”

There’s pain in Manu’s voice, so much pain, and after getting used to the thought that he’s in this on his own, it’s almost strange to think that maybe …

“Manu? Do you … you remember me?”

Now, Manuel’s wail rings clearer, he’s sobbing, hopefully out of relief, and no matter how strange the situation is, Thomas wishes for nothing more than to be able to reach through the connection and give him a hug.

He doesn’t know what to say, is dangerously close to breaking down in tears himself, so he’s glad when Manu’s crying dissolves into sniffles after a while, and he can hear him blow his nose. He’s still not saying anything though, so Thomas decides to.

“We had our first kiss in Bordeaux, right after the game against Italy …” he falters, his voice weak and strained, but he needs to confirm, in whatever way, that this is real, “we had been dancing around each other the entire tournament, and you pulled me with you when the others had left the dressing room until our lips met in a desperate attempt for closeness.”

Manu sniffles again. “Except that that’s wrong. We had our first kiss on the pitch a few minutes before, in midst of our teammates, when we all huddled together and you came up to me, yelling in my face about how well I’d done and our lips brushed against each other by accident.”

Thomas’ heart feels light, so light, as if he could take off and fly in one leap, and he quietly grins to himself, shaking his head. “God, Nunu. You should know that it wasn’t an accident.”

Manu chuckles wetly, and Thomas wants to kiss him, wants to see him, hold him close; and only now does he realize how young his voice sounds. Obviously, Manuel is barely more than a teenager himself, but somehow, Thomas hasn’t thought of him like that ever since he arrived here, always thought of him like he knew him – tall, broad, with frown lines on his forehead, laughter lines by his eyes and just half a dozen gray hairs in is dirty blond hair.

He’s just wondering if he can still call him his boyfriend when Manu’s next words take him off guard.

“I love you.”

Thomas lets out a short, barking, disbelieving laugh. He can’t say that he’s surprised by the statement, but hearing those three words after going weeks thinking he would never hear them again, not from the man – the boy – he loves with all his heart, or at least not for another ten year or so, is maybe the best thing happening to him ever.

He shakes his head to himself, suddenly so glad that this is happening, that he has found the courage to make this call, that he’s here, talking to him.

“I love you too. So so much. And I miss you.”

“Can I, can we–”

Manu’s sentence get interrupted when Thomas hears the front door opening, his mother calling for him and his brother to help put away the groceries.

“Shit, Manu I gotta go. My parents are back home. Can you – do you have my number?”

Silence.

“Manu?”

“Sorry, I was just writing it down.”

Thomas lets out a breath of relief. “Oh thank god. I’ve got a game tomorrow, but I’m usually home alone on Tuesday evenings. You can call me then – if my dad picks up, you can always claim you dialled the wrong number.”

He can’t see Manu’s frantic nodding, but he can perfectly imagine it.

“Gotta go, bye!” Thomas blows a kiss through the receiver before he can think about how cheesy it is.

When they’ve hung up, he feels ready to throw himself on his bed face-down and just let this entire thing sink in for a few good hours, but then, he knows he has to help his parents before they get suspicious.

He sprints to the kitchen, and he just can’t stop grinning. Not even when his mother shakes his head at his sudden good mood, and his dad ruffles his hair upon realizing that they finally, truly, got their cheerful son back.

Life is a lot more tolerable when you’ve got someone you love you can talk to every few days, Thomas finds. School doesn’t get any easier, but at least he manages to get himself into the right mindset again, relearning how to study properly and how to do okay in this subject or another.

His parents un-ground him with proud smiles as Simon sulks – having his older brother hanging around to play with him more often was more enjoyable for him – and he enjoys football even more than he seemingly ever did, especially because now he can ridicule Manu with stories from training, his hands moving quickly as he talks, even though the older boy can’t see him. Hearing him giggle on the other end of the line might be the most delightful sound Thomas has ever heard, and he snickers when Manu almost chokes on the crackers he’s eating because he’s laughing so hard.

“You alright there  _ Schatz _ ?”

Manu coughs. “I’m fine. Just wondering why your training sounds so much more exciting than mine.”

“Maybe that’s cause Bayern’s better than Schalke, who knows? We all know it’s why you’ll join us eventually,” Thomas teases. He can almost hear Manu roll his eyes in that trademark way of his, and his grin spreads wider.

They’ve been calling regularly every two or three days for the past three weeks. Sometimes, Thomas made the trip to the phone booth during afternoons when he should have been doing homework, sometimes he snuck into his father’s office to use his phone. 

Already, he’s started doing random little favours for their neighbours as to save money for his own mobile phone. They’re pretty useless things in 2019 standards, none of them have a camera and most models don’t allow for anything but texting and phone calls. They’re quite expensive in a fifteen-year-old’s budget, and usually only the cool kids at school own one, but Manu has one and Thomas finds it makes the whole communicating-with-your-long-distance sorta-boyfriend thing a lot easier.

As it is, it’s surprising his parents haven’t noticed anything yet when calling Manu is pretty much all he thinks about all day every day.

Holger isn’t as easy to fool though.

Admittedly, Thomas has been cutting their bi-weekly hangout sessions short in order to rush home and get on the phone, but even when they’re in training, he can see his best friend raising his eyebrows at him a lot.

It’s when they’re on their way to play a game in Rosenheim that Holger plops down next to him with a frown.

“Okay, spill the beans. What the hell is up with you? You’ve been acting weird and all depressed for a while, and now, suddenly, you’re even more obnoxious than usual. Are you ill?”

Thomas just gapes at him, spluttering.

“I’m fine!”

Another tilt of eyebrow. “You sure about that? Cause it really does seem like something’s up. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve fallen in love.”

Somehow, Thomas manages to avoid that particular conversation when their coach raises his voice and wants to discuss their tactics. Still, Holger keeps a watchful eye on him and already, he regrets not telling him, especially considering Holger is gay himself and they came out to each other only a year ago at this point of their lives. Surely, he’d have nothing against Thomas dating a boy, even if he knows that he leans more towards liking women in general – it’s more the fact that said boy is not only a good few years older than him but they also started dating eleven years in the future that’s causing him a headache.

On top of that, he’s slowly realizing that somehow, only  _ talking _ to Manu isn’t enough. Even though already, his life is getting back on track again and and it’s certainly improved his mental health a lot to be able to talk to him, but he’s still not dealing all to well with thinking about having to redo most of his life’s work. Surely, seeing Manuel won’t help with feeling like he’s a stranger in his own life, but he knows that it will at least be something that will make him feel like a person again.

He’s sitting on the window sill in the office when he proposes the idea to Manu, fiddling with the cord, wondering when his dad will finally get a new phone that doesn’t require cable.

Manu’s sigh on the other end of the line is wary, tired. He’s had a bad week at school, and apparently, there’s some drama going on in his team too.

“It’s not that I wouldn’t love to see you.”

Thomas groans. There they fucking go.

“It’s just that … have you forgotten we live on opposite ends of the country? You’re fifteen, I hardly think your parents would allow you to meet up with someone who’s three years older than you and that they’ve never met.”

Thomas doesn’t feel fifteen. Even after several weeks of this routine, this life; in the end, he’s still a 29-year-old in a teenager’s body. And the 29-year-old in him longs for nothing more than to have the partner by his side who has been and still is such a substantial part of his life.

To hold him close, to kiss him just once. He can’t think of anything he wants more. Hell, he’d trade his World Cup title for a chance to see Manu in person these days.

“I know but … I’ve thought about this.”

He has. His parents have been invited to spend a week with his aunt and uncle during the upcoming  _ Frühjahrsferien  _ at the end of February. Simon will be going with them, but it has been decided long since, even before Thomas magically stumbled into this timeline, that he’d spend it at home. Their coach has fixed three training sessions over the course of the week, and while they aren’t mandatory, it will definitely helpful for his career if he prioritizes football over other things. And well, since there are no games on those two weekends …

Manu isn’t saying anything after listening to his proposal, and Thomas can picture so well how he’s gnawing on his bottom lip, as he so often does when he’s sceptical and anxious about something.

“I don’t have holidays though, you do know that, right?”

Thomas hums.

“I do. But you did say school finishes early to make room for self-story sessions on Friday and that you’ve got a day off on Monday because of this further education event happening for your teachers. Didn’t you?”

“Hmm.”

“So. Do you have training that weekend? Or a game?”

Manu sighs again. “No. But Thomas, this is crazy. How should I explain to my mum that I want to travel through the entirety of the country for – what?”

And at that point, Thomas is at his wits’ end. He shrugs, helplessly, until he realizes that Manu can’t see him. He balls his hand into a fist.

“I’m sorry I just … really want to see you.”

Manu’s “so do I” sounds as wistful as it comes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the last two gifs of [this](http://manuelmueller.tumblr.com/post/158967006070) you can see where Manu and Thomas had their first, semi-accidental kiss (not in real life of course, but)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess now is the ideal time to introduce some visual aids for this story – [here](https://66.media.tumblr.com/8480da074897a4db5dd505b2bb3f96c2/tumblr_pm93zgXC7G1vh1wido1_400.jpg) is Thomas at what I guess is roughly between 15 and 17, and [here](http://manuelmueller.tumblr.com/post/181772958255/) is Manu in 2005 ^^

Two days before the holidays start, Thomas is feeling quite down. His parents are packing, set to leave Friday at noon, and Simon already is excited for their aunt and uncle’s home deep in the Austrian mountains.

Thomas fiddles with the second-hand prepaid phone he managed to get his hands on. He finally purchased it this morning, stocking it with only the minimum amount of money, and texted Manu his number. So far, he hasn’t received an answer and it’s really bumming him out.

He’s just flopped down in one of the big lounge chair in the kitchen when the phone rings. He flinches at the unfamiliar ringtone, even if there’s only one person who it can be. He looks over his shoulder, but his mother is in the kitchen, cleaning and listening to music, his father upstairs and Simon disappeared god knows where a while ago.

Manu sounds breathless when he picks up, and he doesn’t even give Thomas a chance to speak.

“Guess what?!”

Turns out, he’s able to visit Thomas after all.

“My friend Felix is covering for me, they think I’m going to his parents’ cabin with him and some other friends from school. They’re actually going too, but I can come down to visit you instead! Felix thinks I’m going to see my secret girlfriend and it’s not like I’m gonna tell him the truth.”

He sounds terribly excited, and already Thomas’ stomach is doing backflips and somersaults.

“You’re actually coming?”

Manu hums. “I bought the train tickets during lunch break. Cost me most of my pocket money from the past two months, so I hope you plan on paying me back eventually, Müller!”

Thomas grins. As if Manu is any less excited about this than himself. His joy is so obvious in his voice that it’s almost tangible. God, he already feels warmth tingling in his fingers when he imagines hugging him, running his hand through soft, short hair …

Manu is still rambling about how excited he is, stumbling over every second word, his voice pitched even higher than usual. Thomas smiles.

“Manu?”

The older boy stops his torrent of words.

“Yeah?”

“I really can’t wait to see you.” Thomas chuckles, shaking his head, “you know, in some strange way way, this is gonna be the first time we meet.”

He can’t help but wonder if it will be different, more awkward, if their younger bodies will change anything significantly. There are definitely some potential stumbling blocks laying ahead, he knows, but he can’t help but feeling mostly, indefinitely, excited.

In two days, he’s gonna see his Manu. And that that’s all that matters.

His family leaves at two in the afternoon. Simon’s finished school early that day, and Thomas returns from Weilheim just in time to see them off. As soon as he closes the door behind them, he starts pacing, feeling like an animal trapped in a cage, anxiety and excitement building up in him, layering on each other until he feels like he can’t breathe anymore.

Manu left at eleven in the morning, so if everything goes right (which, with Deutsche Bahn, is never really guaranteed) his bus should arrive at seven in the evening.

His ‘see u soon’ text lays heavy in Thomas’ pocket, the new phone a deadweight that seems to remind him every second of what’s going to happen. At first he wants to call, but then he settles for a text. 

‘everything alright?’

Manu only takes a few seconds to answer.

‘sure :) we’re in Frankfurt atm’

Thomas lets out a breath of relief. So far, everything seems to go well – sure, Manu has packed a bit of pocket money, but he isn’t exactly earning royalties at Schalke’s youth team and they aren’t sure if it would suffice to get a hotel for the night if something didn’t work out.

For a few hours, he manages to distract himself by playing FIFA (the game graphics are so terrible that they’re causing him to have a headache after two hours), then, he thinks about what he can cook for dinner.

His parents have forbidden him to cook, as they know that he’s prone to make the kitchen explode, and left him with quite a few leftovers he can heat up and a cardboard menu for the local pizza delivery service. But as his 29-year-old self is not the best but not a bad cook, he decides to make a trip to the (tiny) store around the corner and buy something for him and Manu anyway. He decides on spaghetti bolognese, and at least, preparing the food occupies him for most of the remaining time. When the sauce is finished and he’s putting it in a bowl, he notices how late it already got. Cursing, he pushes it into the fridge before hurrying to put on his jacket.

As he’s rushing out to the bus station, the jitters return. Thomas stuffs his hands into his pockets, cursing when they already feel like icicles after only a few minutes, bobbing from foot to foot to keep himself warm. 

The sun has already dipped behind the horizon, and the bus is late. He checks his phone, but Manu hasn’t written again. Surely, that mustn’t mean anything, but he can’t help but worry nevertheless. Luckily, no one he knows is waiting at the bus station, and he’s the only person one freezing next to the single sign that signals one of only three bus stops in the village.

He’s just ready to check his messages again when the bus turns round the corner, and suddenly, Thomas forgets how to breathe. The doors open and a single hooded figure steps out.

Tall, with broad shoulders, but with that weirdly bumbling, awkward manner that teenagers often have. For a short second, Thomas’ heart stops before it starts hammering louder in his chest than it ever has.

Then, the stranger lifts his head, clear blue eyes meeting Thomas’. They stare at each other wordlessly for a few seconds that feel like half an eternity, and then, Thomas’ feet start moving all on their own.

He almost stumbles over his feet as he takes the last few steps, and then, finally, he’s got him in his arms again.

Manu doesn’t smell the same, he realizes as he buries his face in the crook of his neck, but still somehow familiar in a way he can’t put his fingers on. He doesn’t want to let go, and by the way Manu’s arms tighten around his shoulders, neither does he.

When they do pull away, Thomas has to resist to reach for him again, has to stop himself from framing his face in his hands, knowing that any of his parents’ friends or their neighbours could be watching. 

He can’t help but note all the differences to the features he’s traced with his fingers again and again. Manu’s cheeks are even rounder, his dimples less pronounced and his hair is bleached, brushing over his forehead in a fluffy fringe. He looks pale underneath the orange light of the street lamp, and so clearly just like a boy and not the man he fell in love with, and Thomas knows that he himself looks like barely more than a kid, with his voice breaking and pimples all over his face … but somehow it all doesn’t matter.

He chuckles, and his voice cracks right in the middle of it.

“Love the hair.”

Manu makes a face, but he’s still smiling. Thomas clears his throat, awkwardly dropping his hand, shoving it in his pocket. Now, his voice is barely there when he speaks up, lifting one hair to brush through Manu’s bangs.

“Let’s go home, yeah? We can talk there.” 

Manu nods carefully, the dim light casting a harsh shadow over his face.

He knows the way to Thomas’ parents’ house, automatically turns all the right corners. Thomas has only brought him home twice, once in 2011 when Manu had just transferred to Munich and was going through a rough time, and once in 2015 when he picked Thomas up to go to some event or another. He’s never brought him home as his boyfriend though, and in a way, he regrets it, even if it was always Manu’s wish to be private with their relationship for a couple years.

A couple times, the backs of their hands brush against each other as they walk, and whenever Thomas looks up, he can see Manu being unable to suppress a smile, ducking his head, his cheeks lightly dusted with a blush.

It’s only when the door slams shut that Thomas turns back around to him, not even hesitating to wrap his arms around the taller boy’s waist as soon as Manu’s shrugged off his jacket, pulling him back in until not even a sheet of paper would be able to fit between them.

Manu cracks a smile, and it makes him look so precious, so beautiful, so radiant and Thomas can’t help it.

He’s raising on his tiptoes, compensating the just-slightly-bigger-than-they’re-used-to height difference, closing in and –

Manuel’s kisses taste like they always have. There’s a comfort in them that Thomas has lacked, a way that makes him feel at home more than he feels at home in this house.

When they pull away, Manu’s eyes are sparkling, and Thomas is grinning so widely that he feels the strain on his cheeks.

“Hi,” he whispers, and Manu grins back, blissfully, happily, looking incredibly boyish as he mumbles a shy “hey”.

Thomas caresses his neck, runs his hand through the hair that’s so much more feathery, a lot fluffier than he’s used to.

“Christ Nunu, I’m so happy to see you. Finally.”

Manu ducks his head, and he’s blushing again. “Me too.”

Thomas hugs him again, and only when the big clock in the living room strikes a quarter to eight does he remember that he cooked them dinner.

“We’re gonna make spaghetti. Is that okay?” he says, reluctantly separating from the blond in his arms.

Manu smiles.

They hold hands as they walk to the kitchen, and it’s Manu who puts water on the stove to boil the pasta just like it would have happened back in their own house. Suddenly, the ice of awkwardness seems to be broken, and suddenly, everything is so achingly familiar in a way that nothing else has felt for weeks.

Thomas talks all the time.

Manu hums and nods along, smiling and grinning, stirring the pasta in the pot every now and then, leaning against the counter as Thomas sits on it, dangling his legs. He reaches for Thomas’ hand again, and Thomas feels his body being flooded with endorphins as the taller boy laces their fingers together, Manuel’s more sturdy, slotting perfectly in between his own, bonier ones.

They don’t even let go as they eat dinner, and it all feels so normal, as if they were back home instead of in the wrong year, in Thomas’ parents’ house, meeting when no one else will notice because they wouldn’t know how to explain their situation.

After an hour or so, they end up laying on the couch, Manu’s back against Thomas chest in a position that’s so familiar too, watching a movie. Thomas strokes over his boyfriend’s side when he realizes that he never asked that particular question.

“Hey Manu.”

“Hmm?” He sounds sleepy, which, considering that he spent eight hours of the day on a train journey, really isn’t all that surprising.

“Are we still – a thing?”

Manu looks at him questioningly.

“Like, dating. Boyfriend and boyfriend. Considering you’re eighteen and I am fifteen …”

Manu shrugs, fiddling with his sweater, pulling the sleeves over his knuckles. It’s a bright blue colour, interrupted by a single white stripe in the middle; but since it’s bare of any S04 logo, Thomas is completely fine with tolerating it no matter how much it hurts his eyes.

“I guess. Do you, um, do you want us to be?”

Thomas hugs him tighter. “Of course!”

His boyfriend shrugs again, turning his head slightly, staring at a far-off corner of the room. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t really feel eighteen.”

Thomas hums. “Well, I assume no fifteen-year-old would know how to do taxes, would he, so I’d say the same applies to me. But I’m not so sure about you” – he pokes Manu’s side – “you never acted a day older than 25 anyway.”

Manu chuckles, before huffing, turning around slightly, putting his head on Thomas’ shoulder.

“I’m just glad I’m here.”

The next morning, Thomas wakes up to his all-too-familiar childhood room, but this time, there’s a heavy head resting on his chest, as his fingers are knotted in short, familiar hair, and his legs tangled with ones a lot stronger and thicker than his own.

With a comfortable sigh, he closes his eyes again, stroking over his boyfriend’s side with a lazy hand.

Manu forgot to pack his own sleepshirts, so he’s wearing one that has always been too big on Thomas’ slender frame. It’s still reasonably tight on him, and it has slid up to reveal a sliver of skin. When you can’t see his face, and the incredibly tacky but really adorable hairstyle is out of the way, he really looks just like he did back in their own time, Thomas muses, and he turns his head to place a kiss on his hair.

God, he wishes he could have this forever.

But in reality, he knows Manu will be leaving again in two days, and that until they will play at the same club in – god – seven years, they won’t be able to see each other more than a couple times each year. But when Manu blinks his eyes open, a tiny smile gracing his lips as he squints up at him, he doesn’t want to think about that.

“Hey there. Slept well?”

The bed is too small for two people, especially since Manu is nearly as tall (though not nearly as broad) as his adult self, and Manu’s feet are dangling off the edge, but it all doesn’t matter.

Manu yawns, then nods against Thomas’ chest. He almost purrs when Thomas pets his hair, and Thomas grins. Different year, same Manu.

The morning is comfortable, slow, and when they sneak out of the house later that day for an elaborate walk where Thomas shows Manu the area, even takes him up to the castle, luckily, they run into none of his neighbours. He’d have no idea how he’d be able to excuse a romantic walk with another boy (though, considering they weren’t holding hands and not touching in any way apart from the ten minutes when Manu had casually wrapped his arm around Thomas’ shoulder in a way that could be interpreted as completely platonic) if any of them spotted them and ratted him out to his parents.

Now, in the daylight, it’s astonishing how young Manu really looks.

He’s always looked younger than his actual age, and his already stronger build aside, with his soft features, big eyes and the almost-permanent rosy colour on his cheeks, he could easily pass as sixteen. It’s confusing, in a way, because when he listens to him speaks and even looks at him, Thomas still expects to see the guy in his early thirties that he knows so close and so intimately, and is almost unable to align those two images together.

Sure, he got used to the fact that he himself is no longer the age he feels that he is, but at the same time, at least he only has to look at his younger, acne-ridden face only two times a day, whenever he’s risking a quick glance into a mirror.

He’s looking at Manuel the entire time.

He can’t help it, really, not with the way the blond is slowly coming out of his shell, talking and gesturing and being the all-around lovely, bubbly person Thomas knows he is when he’s fully comfortable, and he is endeared as if it was the first time they met. Which – Thomas snorts – technically, it is. After all, their first introduction happened five year into the future.

As if on impulse, he reaches for Manu’s hand, the left one that is dangling by his side. Manu falters when Thomas takes it, squeezing it gently, but he doesn’t let go until they step back out of the forest.

The day passes quickly but somehow not fast at all. In the blink of an eye, they find themselves in the couch again, cuddling and laughing together as if they’d never been separated. At the same time, Thomas already has so many new memories stored away. They way Manu’s hair looks like golden feathers in the sunlight, how his smiles look even softer when there aren’t as many lines by his mouth, the way his laugh is a bit more squeaky but his tone is all the same, the way it feels when they suddenly do feel like the boys they should be instead of the men they are.

He realizes, almost as if in a daze, that this means, that in some strange universe, Manuel Neuer is something like his first love.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, due to Bayern's terrible game today I almost forgot about posting so thanks guys – anyway, some drama coming up next! It's a really short one this time, but you're getting really long chapters today and on Monday

The second morning they wake up together, Thomas realizes it’s the second night in a row in what feels like forever that he slept without waking up. Already, holding Manu while they’re sleeping has become a routine again, and he fears for both of them once he has to go back home tomorrow, knows that it will take a toll on them.

Manu makes pancakes for breakfast, and Thomas hugs him from behind and nips on his neck until he leaves a hickey.

“Love you,” he murmurs into his skin, and he can feel Manu’s smile resonating through his skin, his blush even reaching his neck.

They make out out against the kitchen counters for fifteen minutes but don’t go any further than that, and then spend half the day playing FIFA and laughing at some player’s stats that seem hilarious when you know how their form is going to continue. Thomas tells Manu about Holger and how he so desperately wanted to know what was up with him and Manu rolls his eyes and remarks that he’d probably gape quite a bit if he knew even half the truth.

It’s snowing outside and Thomas places a kiss on Manu’s temple and never wants this to end.

He doesn’t think about school, and even football couldn’t be further from his mind, not when Manu’s laugh rings in his ears like bells, and his arm is pressed against Thomas’ as he rests his head on his shoulder, warm and familiar.

It’s blissful domesticity that they’ve been gifted, and as such, neither of them expects the front door to get opened. Nevertheless, it does.

“Thomas? Honey?”

They’ve barely got enough time to sit upright before his parents enter the living room, and still, they’re sitting slightly too close for platonic friends, still, his mother’s eyebrows travel up to her hairline as soon as she spots them.

“What is this?”

His father has entered behind her, and he looks completely at loss. Manu has gone bright red, eyes trained firmly on the carpet, clearly unwilling and probably unable to deal with any of this.

“Mama, Papa!” Thomas jumps up, wiping his hands on his trousers, as if that could erase the fact that only seconds ago, they had been stroking an older boy’s hair, caressing his sides. “What are you doing here?! Aren’t you supposed to be at Annika’s? What happened?!”

“Your aunt had an accident,” his father says and sighs. Only now does Thomas realize how tired both of them look, as if they didn’t have more than a few hours of sleep. “Roland and I took her to the hospital, and your mother spent the entire evening calming Simon down, who witnessed the entire thing first hand.”

Thomas gulps.

“Where is Si now?”

“At Marc’s” – a friend of his brother’s – “his parents have a lake house close to where Roland and Annika live, and kindly suggested he could spend the holidays with them instead. He really needs the distraction.”

His mother shakes his head, clearly exhausted. Her voice is breathless as she continues, resigned.

“And now, what is this.” She gestures at him and Manuel and the bowl of cut veggies and corn chips they’ve lined up on the coffee table, still full as the brim, the food having gone ignored for soft kisses and hushed words.

“Um. This is Manuel, he’s my new math tutor?”

Thomas is well aware he doesn’t sound convincing at all.

“He was just about to leave.”

The noise Manu makes sounds like it comes from a wounded animal. He’s fast, goalkeeper reflexes acting up, and before Thomas can properly catch a thought, he’s out of the door with a mumbled “sorry, Frau Müller. Have a good day, Herr Müller.”

Thomas stares after him with his mouth gaping, a sudden layer of ice closing around his heart. ‘He didn’t even take his stuff from upstairs,’ he thinks, but still, he fears that Manu might go straight on the bus, take the train back to Gelsenkirchen before they even said goodbye. That he won’t be able to see him again.

His mother crosses her arms in front of her chest. The look in she eyes is the one that tells him she isn’t buying any of his lies.

“Thomas. _Spatzl_ , I’ll give you one chance to explain what’s really going on. That boy most definitely isn’t your tutor, is he.”

Thomas shakes his head, gaze trained on the floor. He can feel tears brimming in his eyes, angrily brushing them away. He startles when he feels someone touching his shoulder. His mother is shorter than him, has been been as long as he can remember (to be fair, he’s still got the memories of his adult self), but her eyes are warm as she pulls him into a hug.

“Oh honey, it’s alright.”

“Is it?” Thomas sobs, furious at how broken he sounds. But the thought of losing Manu again, now that he finally has him … it snaps his heart right in half.

His mother coos, cupping his face. Her wedding band is cold against his skin, and he hardly remembers what it feels like to wear one himself.

“I’m a social worker, dear. There are much stranger and worse things than your firstborn being gay.”

“Bisexual,” Thomas mumbles into her shoulder. Already, the fabric of her blouse is wet from his tears. It smells like antiseptics, but also like the detergent she always uses. “I’m bi, Mama.”

“And that’s completely fine with me and your father, you know? I want you to know that.”

When Thomas looks over her shoulder, he can see his father smiling, nodding, and suddenly, he’s so incredibly grateful for how open-minded his family is. Not everyone has that, he knows that all too well.

“So, what about this boy. Is he really your tutor then? Surely, he doesn’t look a day older than seventeen.”

Thomas sniffles, wincing. “That’s a really long story, Mama.”

She smiles. “Well, why don’t you tell it once you’ve brought this boy of yours back inside. It’s freezing, and I wouldn’t want him to catch an cold.”

Thomas pulls away incredulously. Her eyes twinkle.

“Go, go!” she ushers him out. “How many times do I have to tell you!”

 

In the end, Thomas finds Manu on the abandoned playground a few hundred meters away from their house behind a few barren trees. He’s sitting on the swing, his lets folded awkwardly under the seat since they’re way too long for a structure made for little kids, looking awfully lost.

He doesn’t immediately spot Thomas as his head is hanging low and he’s got his hands clenched together with the knuckles slowly turning blue.

“Manu?” Thomas’ tone is tentative, barely there, as if he were approaching a wounded animal.

Manuel raises his head, and it’s clear from the redness of his eyes that he has been crying.

“Hey,” Thomas whispers, taking a few more steps towards him until he could just extend his hand to touch his shoulder. “Can you … are you coming back with me?”

Manu snorts, wiping his nose. “Hardly a possibility now that we’ve been discovered. You made it clear enough that you didn’t want me there.”

That causes the younger boy to frown. “I did what now?”

“‘He was just leaving’!?” Manu’s voice is suddenly booming, the way it sounds when he’s yelling across the pitch, loud and powerful. A few meters away, some crows fly up, cawing and complaining as it cuts through the eerie silence of the day.

Thomas runs a hand over his face. “Oh my god, Manu I didn’t mean to – you should know that was just a desperate attempt on my behalf to cover up our relationship!”

Manu huffs, turning his head away, so Thomas reaches for him, carefully placing a hand his shoulder before kneeling down, shivering when his knees touch the frozen ground, cupping his face, forcing Manu’s eyes to meet his own.

“I love you, dumbass, and if I had my way, we wouldn’t have to spend a single day apart. My parents now know anyway, so we might as well explain everything to them.”

He leans in for a kiss, short, affirming, pulling away after only a few seconds but not letting go.

Manu gnaws on his lip. It’s pink from the cold and puffy from Manu’s habit of biting it when he’s nervous. “ _Everything_ everything?”

Thomas nods curtly. “I don’t think they’d appreciate me lying to them again.” He shrugs. “Also, I don’t really know how we could come with a good cover story anyway.”

That causes his boyfriend to frown. “They won’t believe us.” Thomas snorts, offering him his hand, pulling him to his feet.

“I guess they’ll just have to.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Sunday, and as I love starting Sundays with reading a bit of fic, I wanted to offer the same possibility to you! Of course I didn't get to answer your comments yet, but I will over the course of the day. I hope this one doesn't disappoint ....

They walk the way back holding hands. The village is flooded with thick fog, and Thomas couldn’t give a rat’s ass about anyone seeing them anymore anyway. Manu’s palm is warm in his own, his hand seemingly fully engulfing Thomas’ now that their difference in size is slightly more pronounced than it was when they were adults.

Thomas’ father waits for them with two cups of hot chocolate that the boys eagerly accept. Manu curses a bit when the porcelain is hot to the touch, but still curls his hands around it as if it was his anchor as they’re led to the kitchen.

His mother is already sitting at the big wooden table, looking expectant but also quite curious. She stands up, and after she’d curiously eyed Manu for a few seconds that has the blond clearly squirming, she opens her arms for a hug.

Bewildered, Manu returns it.

“Hello, I’m Klaudia.”

“Manuel,” Manu mumbles, and Thomas can’t help but crack a tiny smile.

After Thomas’ father introduced himself too, they sit down. Thomas’ mother puts down her glasses, placing them on the table with a sigh.

“So, how did you two meet?”

Thomas groans. “It’s a really long story.”

She shrugs. “We’ve got time.”

 

At first, they don’t believe them. Of course they don’t – Thomas wouldn’t have expected anything less. In fact, his mother looks at him as if he’s gone cuckoo, and his dad is just gaping, then hardly able to suppress a chuckle.

They start when frowning when they realizes that Thomas is being serious, when he grabs Manuel’s hand on the table and starts talking and explaining things in a matter they aren’t used to from their fifteen-year-old son. Thomas talks and talks and talks and at some point, Manu joins in and they recount their lives, sharing private smiles and inside jokes and when it’s already going dark outside and they’re finally at the point when they woke up in their past lives, Thomas’ father leans back with a huff.

“I have to admit, at first this sounded like complete bogus, but now? I hardly think anyone could make all of that up. Christ, our son is going to be a World Cup winner.”

His mother shakes her head, getting up, turning to the fridge, pulling out some ingredients for dinner. “It also explains why you started acting so strangely a couple weeks ago. And our significantly higher phone bill. _And_ why your grades dropped – at first I’d thought that was just because you were focused on this relationship instead of school, but …”

“So,” Manuel hesitates, “you believe us?”

She huffs. “It’s a crazy story if I ever heard one, and neither you nor my son have got a proper way to prove that what you’re saying is true. But in a way I can see it; Thomas isn’t the same person he was a couple weeks ago and I clearly noted the difference. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him being this mature.”

The relieved sigh that leaves Manu’s lips feels like a weight dropping of Thomas’ shoulder. He looks at Thomas, and Thomas squeezes his hand, lifting it to place a kiss on it. His mother turns around.

“But one thing is certain – you’re leaving the door open tonight. You might think you are 29 and 32, but at this point you’re still teenagers and no matter what; there will be no funny business under my roof, gentlemen!” She waves her spatula at both of them, and this time, Manu isn’t the only one blushing crimson.

 

The next morning brings sun and with it the day Manuel has to leave again. Thomas feels strangely solemn all morning, and even if he can now sit on the couch with Manu resting against his chest, it’s still weird doing it with his father reading his newspaper only a few feet away.

His mother ushers them outside to go enjoy the sun, “two healthy athletic boys like you!” and makes them take the dog with them. It feels strangely domestic, not unlike their traditional elaborate walks the day before an international break. It’s at this point that Thomas realizes that now that he’s got Manu with him, he doesn’t miss his old life as much as he’s used to.

Manu pokes his side and Thomas chases him down the hill, and they both laugh when they stumble, rolling in the grass that’s still covered in frost and a thin layer of snow. Thomas pulls Manu close, nudging their noses together, his smile pulling wider and wider when Manu grins up at him, so beautiful he’s almost radiant.

They kiss, and Thomas never wants the moment to end.

Of course, it does.

Three hours later they all escort Manu to the bus together. Him and Thomas already said goodbye inside before, as they’re quite aware they’d be the talk of the town if they shared a smooch smack right on the biggest square of the village.

Still, he can’t help pulling the blond in a big, long hug a few minutes before the bus arrives, latching onto him as if he never wanted to let go. (He really, really doesn’t.) Manu is as reluctant when he pulls away, and he already looks close to having a mental breakdown when Thomas rubs his side one last time, giving him a crooked smile.

Manu chuckles drily, smiling and shaking his head as he rubs his nose. “God, look at me, I’m pathetic.”

“No, you’re lovely.” Thomas means it too, even if Manu’s reaction is only yet another sassy roll of his eyes. He hugs him again.

“I’m gonna miss you so much, big guy. Take care, yeah?”

Manu nods. “I’ll talk to you soon, Thommy.”

Thomas winks at him. “Can’t be soon enough.”

Then, the bus pulls up in front of them, and as Manuel turns around to lift his hand in a last timid wave, Thomas’ heart feels like it’s an orb of glass shattering in his chest.

He lets out a deep sigh when the bus disappears between the houses, and his mother wraps an arm around his shoulder.

“You miss him already, don’t you.”

“Like an arm or a leg. God, Mama, I love him so much.”

And then he turns, burying his face in her hair and spills tears he never wanted to spill as she hugs him close and his father wraps an arm around both of them.

 

Somehow, life becomes a bit easier after that. Missing Manu is still something Thomas has to deal with on a daily basis, but now that he doesn’t have to hide his moods or their phone calls from his parents, it’s less tiring, and in it’s own way more bearable. Still, hearing Manu’s laugh through the phone manages to brighten up his entire day, and as it slowly becomes spring, Thomas feels himself starting to settle in his new old life.

He manages to get his grades up again, and his football career keeps on track despite the fact that pretty much everyone still thinks his increase in ‘talent’ is fairly spooky. (Thomas doesn’t have the heart to tell anyone that he just has a good decade of experience more than them.) He scores goal after goal after goal, and leaves everyone in his wake in the process. Which in turn, means Holger is still noisier than he used to be.

By now, Thomas feels guilty for not telling his best friend, so when one day, when Holger is over for dinner and his mum hands Thomas the new cable-less phone mouthing “it’s Manu”, he pulls a face and tells Holger that he’ll explain later.

Manu is incredibly busy at the moment. His exams are coming up soon, and his career is really taking off – at eighteen, he’s at the age where he’s watched to eventually join the first team, and he jokes that everything goes as it should, he’ll get his contract in just over a year.

The fact that he might not makes Thomas’ stomach churn. Already, he’s often starting to wonder what rocks they’ve kicked loose with becoming a couple, meeting up and messing with the timeline, and if the avalanche is going to wash over them soon.

Manu chuckles at it, but Thomas knows he’s nervous about it too. As much as he knows that having each other is the most valuable thing they have – football is their lives. And missing out on that, missing out on the big chance? He has no idea how that would influence them both, or what else they would even want to do with their lives, but as long as they have each other … It brings up a memory, one that’s recent, not from their previous lives.

“Remember when we met at the playground?”

Manu chuckles. “Worst and best moment of my entire life.”

“Yeah.” Thomas pulls at the hem of his jumper. “I can’t wait for us to go back.” He smiles. “You’ll do great, love. I’m sure of it. Talk to you soon.”

He hangs up with a small smile as Manu has to go back to studying, and Holger hovers over his shoulder like the quiet shadow he is.

“Who was that?”

“My … math tutor?” It’s a weak attempt, half-assed, and Thomas almost snorts at this little inside joke he has with himself by now, but Holger only raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“You called them ‘love’.”

Thomas sighs, folding his hands in his lap. “Yeah, I did. That was Manu, my boyfriend.”

Holger gapes at him. It makes him look like a very strange fish. “Shut the fuck up! How did you get a boyfriend before me, that’s so unfair!”

At least, he doesn’t sound actually offended, but Thomas winces at his tone still. Just as he wants to come up with some creative story, his mother walks by, taking the phone with her again. “Believe me, it’s quite a fantastic story.”

Thomas sulks. “Thanks Mama.”

She just laughs like the traitor she is.

Half an hour later, him and Holger are sitting cross-legged on the carpet in Thomas’ room, slurping two cans of coke and Holger can’t seem to stop shaking his head.

“You’re dating an _eighteen-year-old_ who plays for _Schalke_ that you met in the _future_? What the fuck dude, you’re supposed to tell me about these things. But I mean, I can’t even tell if you’re kidding or not. Would explain quite a bit, though.”

Thomas groans. “It’s hardly the apt conversation topic for the dressing room, though now, is it. And what’s wrong with Schalke? Did you become a Dortmund fan overnight?”

Holger lets out a short cackle. “It’s Schalke, man, I don’t know – I just thought you’d have better taste.” Thomas is close to boxing his arm, but by the way he’s grinning, it’s clear that his best friend is merely joking. “But god no. Imagine if Willy found out, he’d beat you blue and green.” He’s not exactly wrong. The center back is known for his brutish nature, and has never raised any doubts what his standpoints on ‘faggots’ were – and he’s long since been on both Thomas’ and Holger’s shit list for it.

“Do you have a picture of him?”

Thomas shakes his head, pursing his lips. Actually, he thinks, he should probably ask Manu to send him one. Maybe he could keep it under his pillow – the thought makes him smile, despite how much it sounds like something a teenage girl would do.

“And” – Holger pulls at his carpet – “don’t you fear that you guys being here, in some way, is messing things up?”

And then, right there, he hit the nail on the head.

Those initial worries that Thomas had have by now developed into outright fears – so what if he’ll never get married to Lisa; after all, he’s got Manu. But what if he doesn’t run into her at all, what if they never become friends? She’s one of the most important people in his life still, and imagining it without her hurts more than he dares to admit. What if them being here, in 2005 where their consciousnesses clearly don’t belong, caused some big shift not only in their lives but in time as a whole? What if neither of them will ever get to play professional football – will it affect their relationship, too? Would they even stay together even when they are what caused them to drift away from doing what they love most?

He gulps, and Holger understands that he probably shouldn’t ask anymore questions – he’s also quite intuitive, and still, Thomas is _so_ happy to have him back in his life, at least (even if it was in trade for pretty much everything else) – so they spend another hour playing boring board games that Thomas spends mostly staring blankly out of the window until finally Holger gives up, sighing and clapping him on the back as he says goodbye.

That night, Thomas lies in his bed, sleepless, thinking about texting Manu before he realizes that right now, that would only make his thoughts carousel worse. After another ten to fifteen minutes, he swings his legs out of bed and shuffles downstairs where his mother is still sitting in the kitchen, working on some reports.

Her job has been hard lately, and when he wanted to help her cause he isn’t actually bad organizing stuff, she’d only given him a look and said that she’d like to pretend he was her teenage son for a while longer, if that was okay with him. He hasn’t asked again.

“Mama?”

She sighs. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

He shrugs. “I can’t. I keep thinking about me and Manu and this fucked up situation.” He pulls out a chair. It squeaks, and Thomas buries his face in his hands and is close to crying.

“I feel like I’m taking someone’s life away and that I have no right to – to be here. And I feel like someone stole mine. And sure I’m doing everything to fix that but what if,” he falters, his voice uneven, “what if that’s not enough?”

“Oh my baby …”

Thomas doesn’t know what it is about a mother’s hug that makes them a cure-all to all evils, but as she presses him close he suddenly feels safe again.

She pets his hair, and Thomas quietly cries into her sweater.

“I don’t know any more than you do but I’m convinced the universe has a plan. I’m convinced that if you ended up here and Manuel did too, it was for a reason. I’m convinced you’ll be fine. You’re two fine young men, I just can’t believe that this happened to punish you.”

Thomas lets out one last silent sob, then he sits up, rubbing his eyes.

“Mama?”

“Yes?”

“Can you promise me something? No matter what happens, don’t – don’t ever forget that Manuel and I belong together. And that I’d do anything for him, that I can get through anything as long as he’s by my side. If I ever forget that, please remind me.”

And then she kisses his forehead like she did when he was a little boy.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, another out-of-schedule posting! I guess I just wanted to give this to you to end your week, and because I know I can enjoy your reactions to it more today than tomorrow evening after work. So I guess, here we are!
> 
> A big big shoutout to everyone who has commented and left kudos, especially those who left comments every chapter! I haven't had this much of a reaction to a fic in forever, so this is really special :')

The morning after, Thomas wakes up, and the ceiling he’s faced with is a fashionable gray. Blinking, he runs his hand over his jaw and is met with coarse morning stubble. When he raises his hands, they look just a bit less chubby, a bit bonier than the day before, and when he sits up, he’s faced with a room he knows all too well.

He’s alone in the big bed, and for a second, he fears that this is the consequence to their actions. It’s the same, gut-wrenching feeling that he had when he first woke up in his childhood bed – a feeling of wrongness, the lack of a sense of belonging, and that throttling thought keeps a hold of him until he spots the hoodie that’s been thrown haphazardly over the the chair sitting in the corner of the room.

It’s Manuel’s, but its owner is nowhere to be seen, and suddenly, Thomas has that same fear of it all having been a strange dream yet again. It would make sense, he thinks frantically, after all, as he checks his phone, faced with the familiar selfie he and Manu took when they were cycling in the alps a while ago as soon as he unlocks it with a code that’s still ingrained in his mind as if he just used it yesterday

It’s the day after he ‘left’ for the past, so nothing has changed. It all wasn’t real.

Right?

He slaps his cheeks to become more awake, and cracks a tired smile when a message comes in with a short buzz of his phone.

‘Hey, sorry for not being there this morning :( Kalle asked for a spontaneous meeting and I didn’t want to wake you as he didn’t explicitly require you too. See you later :)’

God, Manu is so cute.

Thomas smiles, and after his dream – this fucked-up experience that still makes him feel like he’s been run over by a truck – it feels good to know how close Manu is, that they both live here and that they will be able to fall asleep together that evening.

He lets himself fall back into the sheets, and wonders what he should do with his free day. In the end, it’s remembering that dream conversation with his mum that he had just before waking up that makes his decision a lot easier.

 

Pähl looks like it always has. A sleepy little village, with all the same people that still look at him as if he was still the little boy running around the streets without shoes on after stealing some cookies from his mum’s freshly baked tray.

The house too, still looks exactly like he remembers it. The paint is a bit paler, sure, looking a bit shabby around the windows, but it still evokes a familiarity that seems to affect him more than the last time he visited. He wonders if the dream has something to do with that.

Thomas hasn’t announced his visit, so he’s glad to see that the light in his parents’ office is on, meaning that at least one of them is home. His mother pulls him into a tight hug right after she’s opened the door. Only after, when she pulls away, does she raise an eyebrow at him.

“What are you doing here, didn’t you say you were busy this weekend? Not that I don’t love having you here _Spatzl_ , I am simply surprised.”

Thomas shrugs and hates that he can’t just bring Manu over to spend private time with both his family and his boyfriend at the same time.

His mother launches into a story immediately as he kicks off his shoes, and Thomas chuckles when he realizes once again who he got his chattiness from. It’s only when they finally sit down on the couch ten minutes later – the same couch that he can still so vividly picture sitting on together with a younger, bleached blond Manuel with a faux mohawk as if it was an actual memory – that he runs his hand through his hair and discloses the reason behind his visit.

“I had a crazy dream last night, and it made me think.” He takes a deep breath, “I need to talk to you about something.”

And then, it’s the way his mother’s expression suddenly changes in a matter of seconds that makes him sit up straighter, feeling tense all of a sudden – the way she regards him with a quiet, asserting glance that fills him with trepidation.

He wants to continue but finds himself unable to, and then she looks at her hands before gently grasping his own, covering his fingers with hers.

“I might just make myself like a silly fool, but I made a promise once, almost fifteen years. In a talk we had, that started not unlike this one. For a long time, I wasn’t sure if I remembered it correctly because you couldn’t recall anything upon waking up the next day.”

Thomas’ heart rate speeds up. He gulps and just stares at her with eyes that grow wider and wider.

“In fact, there were quite a few things you forgot around that time. If your father wouldn’t have been, I might have thought I was going crazy.”

“What are you saying?” Thomas’ voice is so subdued it’s barely there at all.

“I made a promise that I won’t forget who you belong with. I promised you that I’ll make you remember, even if you forget. And to this day, I haven’t.”

Thomas can hardly hear her words, doesn’t even register it when she gets up, clutching a little envelope that’s too small to hold a letter, yellowed at the edges as if it was years old and had spent the past few years untouched in a drawer.

“Thomas, did you come to tell me something?”

He nodes, carefully, as if a wrong, jerking movement of any kind could make the ground open up to reveal a bit abyss.

“I’m in love, Mama. I’ve been in love for quite a while. And the person I’m in love with is just so lovely, and I don’t wanna keep it from you any longer.”

She smiles, quietly and knowingly, and strokes over his hand in gentle motions. The corners of her mouth jump as she speaks.

“I suspected as much. In fact, I already knew.”

She pushes the envelope into his hands.

His fingers tremble as he opens it, shaking so much that he has trouble reaching inside, pulling the contents out. There are two photos. Old, clearly recorded with a film camera, slightly yellowed just like the envelope.

Two boys stare up at him. Young, in old-fashioned clothes and terrible hair. They’re smiling at each other, so widely you can hardly see their eyes, clearly unaware of the picture being taken of them. They’re holding hands on his parents’ old kitchen table, the same that still has a fixed place in their home, and they are so very obviously enamoured with each other.

The second one shows the same boys sleeping on their couch, tangled up in a mess of limbs. The bigger one is sleeping on the smaller one’s chest, and the other’s arms are wrapped firmly around his torso.

It’s such a clear depiction of love that it makes Thomas’ breath catch and his heart race faster and faster because – he knows these boys. Knows one of them from looking into a mirror and frowning at the face staring back at him again and again; knows the other because of the way your beloved’s face is etched into your soul in a way that makes you unable to ever forget it.

The photos show him and Manuel, real and in slightly faded colour, as they were one and a half decades ago.

“It was” – he coughs, his throat suddenly dry and empty – “it was real? It … actually happened?”

His mother nods, and Thomas feels dizzy, a bit light-headed, flooded with disbelief, happiness and shock all at the same time.

“The day after we had that talk, you came downstairs and couldn’t recall anything. In fact, when I mentioned Manuel’s name a few days later, you just looked at me with a blank face, clearly having no idea who I was talking about. And he never called again either.”

She shakes her head. “If I didn’t have these pictures and your father who reaffirmed me in what I remembered, I may have thought I dreamt it all too. But then, a few years later, I saw him on the TV, starting for Schalke, and then I knew. That it was real.”

Thomas rubs his hands over his face, his whole body trembling. His mother caresses his shoulder, offering him another hug.

“I should have told you a long time ago. It’s been two years and I know that you would have been supportive and–”

She interrupts him with a tut and a soft shake of her head. “You and Manuel took the time you needed. I’m not mad.”

He nods, still trembling, unable to say anything more.

“Maybe you should go outside?” she suggests, squeezing his shoulder. “Fresh air has always helped you cleared your mind.”

“But”, he stutters, “I only just came here.”

His only reply is a sly smile. “You’re my son; my door is always open for you. But next time, you better bring that captain of yours along!”

 

She lets him keep the photographs, claiming that she made another copy for herself quite a while ago, and Thomas pockets them feeling as weird as he probably never has in his entire life. Only now, the strangeness of this entire thing comes crashing down on him. Did he actually travel through time? Him and Manu? Why them? He shakes his head to himself as if to get rid of those questions; he’s pessimistic when it comes to ever finding an answer to them – who would even believe them for long enough to try searching for an answer?

At first, he wants to drive back to the Tegernsee, go for a run on their usual paths until Manu comes home, or go visit Lisa and the horses. He doesn’t really know why he turns the car around halfway along the way, turning left and right and then left again as if on autopilot and he only realizes where his journey is going to end when he spots it.

He sees the playground from far away.

It’s at the outskirts of the village, right next to where Thomas went to Kindergarten. The school itself isn’t in use anymore, the house long since torn down and replaced by something more modern and mostly empty that is now used as the holiday home for some rich old Munich residents, Thomas knows.

The playground itself is no longer in use, but the swingset is still there, abandoned – or maybe not abandoned at all.

A single figure is leaning against the structure.

He’s only wearing a hoodie despite the biting cold of the January air, just like he did back then, but the figure he cuts is a lot more imposing than the bumbly teenage boy that is still so fresh on Thomas’ mind.

Nevertheless, his steel blue eyes are the same, and they cut right through Thomas and gaze straightly into his soul.

Manuel smiles one of his half-smiles, and it’s the way his jaw is dusted in three days worth of stubble, the lines on his forehead more prominent, his hair shorter and less quirky but so characteristic of _him_ and his eyes more tired but also with a different spark in them, one that’s wiser, but also more at peace, that makes Thomas slam the car door behind him and quicken his pace until he’s running, flying over the muddy ground with no care in the world on how it’s ruining his formerly perfectly white sneakers.

It’s been so long.

He comes to a half only half a meter in front of his partner, almost slamming into him, and Manu grins, and suddenly he looks like that boy again.

“Hey,” he smirks, and Thomas returns it mirthfully, his stomach bouncing.

“Hi there.” He almost stumbles over the short phrase, unable to keep his excitement form spilling over into his speech. “You look older.”

Manu rolls his eyes, lightly punching Thomas’ arm before pulling him close.

And then, he finally gets to kiss him again.

 

After a few minutes it gets too cold and they relocate to the backseat of Thomas’ car. It’s a bit cramped, but somehow they just so manage to sit side by side, Manu’s head resting on Thomas shoulder as Thomas pets his blond hair with a lazy hand.

“At first I thought it was just a dream. It really fucked me up though, and I didn’t want you worry, so I left without saying goodbye.” Manu’s mumbling, and he sounds drained, exhausted but satisfied at the same time.

Thomas hums, not wanting to picture it. Not when the thought of Manuel hurting already makes his protective side wanting to surface.  “What made you realize it wasn’t?”

“I dunno. I just had a feeling. It all felt too real. And if this place exists … I could have hardly made that up, considering I’ve never been here before.” He lets his eyes roam over the playground. It’s covered in a thin layer of snow.

“Yeah.” Thomas sighs, placing a kiss on his temple. “I’m glad to have you back too. It was torture without you, even if I was just getting used to being a teenager again – now being here feels sorta weird, too.”

Manu laughs quietly against his shoulder. “I know exactly what you mean. The first thing I did when I woke up was thinking ‘oh god, I haven’t done my English homework.’”

Thomas snickers. Then, for a while, as it starts snowing outside again, they sit in silence. Then, suddenly, Thomas’ stops his hand’s movement, letting it it rest on Manu’s head.

“I’ve always wondered.”

Manu sits up straight, looking at him questioningly.

“In those first few weeks, why did you never try to call me?”

That startles a snort out of the blond. “Do you have any idea how many Müllers there are in Bavaria alone? Plus …,” he hesitates, “I feared that you wouldn’t remember. And just imagine how that would have looked, a legal adult randomly trying to chat to a fifteen-year-old boy.”

He’s right, Thomas realizes. In a way, he’s suddenly glad they met as adults, so that those 3.5 years had no weight at all when they finally fell in love.

He buries his nose in soft hair, and randomly, he finds himself missing the additional length of it.

 

The next day, while they’re on their way to Säbener – for once in the same car because fuck that – Thomas is rubbing his chin as Manu is driving.

The pictures have found a place on their kitchen cabinets, and Manu almost cried when Thomas had showed them to him. Already, they have settled back in there routine, as if they hadn’t been away at all, but still, the experience, those three months linger, and still, there’s another question pressing in the back of Thomas’ mind, too.

“How did you even know that I’d come to the playground?”

Manu shrugs.

“I just had a feeling. It was sorta our place, was it not?’”

Thomas hums, even though he’s inclined to agree. “We were only there once.”

Another shrug. “Still.” Somehow, Thomas expects something else to follow, but then he remembers that this Manu is not the one he got used to over the past couple months – and his Manuel is the master of stubborn silences, and in the end, it’s only one of the quirks Thomas loves about him, no matter how frustrating it can be.

He extends his right hand, brushing Manu’s short fringe out of his forehead. He hasn’t put product into it yet, and thus, it looks just a tiny bit like it did back then.

“I love you, you know?”

The smile he receives is lopsided, only tugging at one corner of Manu’s mouth – nevertheless it shines brighter than the sun reflecting on the white streets.

Thomas takes the hand that has been resting on the gears, kissing Manu’s knuckles. They’re perpetually bruised from goalkeeper training, but like everything else, they’re part of the man he loves.

And then he grins.

“Even if I did really love you more with a faux mohawk.”

 

(Three days later, when Thomas gives Holger a call, planning to inquire if his friend remembers the entire episode too, Holger only snorts.

“Sadly enough, yeah. You have no idea how awkward it was being on a team with the two of you, when I was the only one who knew that you were going to bang like rabbits in the future.”

And as Thomas thanks him for keeping their secret, glancing over to the kitchen where Manu is chopping vegetables only in a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and no socks, he doesn’t even want to think about how much this outcome would have shocked his twenty-year-old self. Surely, the fact that he and Manuel were destined to be partners might have messed up a lot.

But heck, he’s so damn glad they ended up together after all.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it until here, thank you so much! I hoped you enjoyed this little story – it's really close to my heart, and I'm so happy it was received so well. I hope the conclusion was satisfying too!
> 
> As always, I'm looking forward to your comments and especially hope to hear what you thought of the ending! Thanks for reading, everyone ♡

**Author's Note:**

> I write FICTION about real people. None of this is intended to harm them or their reputation in any way. Please leave kudos and maybe a comment if you liked it! | [tumblr](http://manuelmueller.tumblr.com/)


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